


Separation

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen, sibling relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finarfin makes his decision to turn back to Tirion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Separation

Arafinwë watched his brother’s eye widen as Ñolofinwë absorbed his words, could practically see his mind flick quickly through the implications, expressions crossing his face fast as dancing shadows. Arafinwë had expected that; he knew the way Ñolofinwë’s mind worked more than half as well as he knew his own.

Lalwendë’s face beside him was growing stormy, her hands balling unconsciously into fists. But Arafinwë had expected that too. 

Ñolofinwë spoke first, stilling Lalwendë’s outburst before it crossed her lips. His shoulders slumped, just a fraction, and he half nodded, as though in acceptance. “So be it” he said. “If you must return to Tirion, then you must. You know you are not bound to me, brother.” 

Arafinwë saw his brother’s eyes flicker up the headland towards the quayside, where figures crowded in the torchlight, the whole scene red and orange, though from this distance they could not see the dark blood by the harbour. Only clusters of shadow, the distant sound of cries of anger, of pain, of a people lamenting. 

“Leave us if you want” said Lalwendë icily, though Arafinwë could almost hear her voice cracking as she struggled to still the sob rising in her chest, “but would you take our people back with you? Would you take them away from us?”

“I will take any with me that want to come back to Tirion” said Arafinwë, as calmly as he could. 

“And what of your children?”

There it was, the thing that made his voice stop in his throat. “If… if they want to come with me” he said, keeping his voice level with an effort, “then I will take them with me. If they want to follow Fëanáro - ”

“They’re following  _Ñolofinwë_!” snapped Lalwendë. “As am I.”

“If they want to follow Ñolofinwë, I will not… I will not stop them.”

Ñolofinwë nodded solemnly. “I promise I will let no harm come to them, brother.”

Lalwendë looked between the two of them in disbelief. “Ñolvo, you’re just going to let him leave? With a whole lot of our people? After… after everything? You know what that will do to your authority over them.”

Ñolofinwë looked at her sadly. “ _Let_  him? Lalwendë, I don’t know what you imagine my position is - ”

“You are a  _king_.”

“Not quite. And Arafinwë is our brother, not a mere wayward subject. Besides…” Ñolofinwë looked between them, at Arafinwë, and then at Lalwendë, her shoulders hunched defensively. Then he gazed up at the quayside again. “I can… I can see why you want to return, Arafinwë.” They all turned to look at the camp a little way off, where their people huddled in almost eery quiet, torches smoking in the gloom, throwing it all into sharp light and shadow. They watched Findekáno for a time, who sat upon a rock, his eyes wide and white, cleaning his sword slowly and carefully. He had been there for an hour, not moving, simply cleaning the blade in long, methodical strokes, but Arafinwë had seen the tremor in his nephew’s hands, the frozen stiffness of his face. Ñolofinwë sighed, tearing his eyes away from his son. “If there is honour and glory, or any righteousness to be found in this journey, it is not here.”

Lalwendë frowned at him. “Ñolvo, you can’t be thinking of turning back too… the people look to you, it’s not possible - ”

Ñolofinwë answered with a weary shake of his head. “No, you’re right. It’s not possible, even if I wanted to return.” He lifted his head, gazing out to sea. “My path is set. I still believe that this course is right, and besides I am bound to it. But the two of you are free to choose. Arafinwë, you are free to return. Lalwendë, you are of course free to follow him.”

She opened her mouth in surprise. “You know I will always follow you, Ñolvo.”

He nodded. “Then I will not have you part on bad terms with our brother.”

Lalwendë met Arafinwë’s eyes for a moment, and then sighed, her face softening until she looked like the sister he had known again. She took his hands in her own, clasping him close to her chest in a hug. “I’m sorry, Ara” she murmured into his hair, and it seemed to Arafinwë that her words encompassed not only their parting but everything, the whole situation, the darkness that covered the whole world. “I’m sorry it had to be this way.” Then she drew back, her face solemn once more. “Give our love to Amil and Findis”

He nodded, clasping both their hands before letting them go. “Of course I will.”

——

Findis was waiting upon the walls of the palace when he returned, sighting the hill of Túna with those who had followed him, whispers running about their quiet, subdued band of those who chose to return. Though it was too far away to see her face, he felt his heart grow slightly less heavy at the mere familiar sight of her. 

As he reached the door, Findis and Indis where there, and his mother was pulling him into her arms without any regard for who might see, even as a moving tide of people flowed around them. There were tears in her eyes as she drew back. Findis, by contrast, looked as though she had been crying not long before, but now her eyes were dry. She inclined her head at Arafinwë. “I knew you’d come back” she said, her voice cracking with relief. 

He nodded. Findis was like him in that; her prophetic visions were strong and most often correct. “Then you also know about…” he found his voice tailing off, hardly knowing how to say it.  _The blood on the sand, the screams, the red glow of the torchlight_.  _Ñolvo was right. There was no honour in this_.

 _Yet Ñolofinwë had carried on; he still believed that the path to the light lay with Fëanáro_.

“We do” said Indis heavily. She was searching his face, her hands on his arms as though he were a mere child again and she was checking how his hair lay, or wiping dirt from his face. “Oh Arafinwë…”

“Eärwen already left” explained Findis, as Indis clasped him in her arms again. “If you were planning to go to her. She went to back to Alqualondë as soon as the news came, to… to be with her father. I am surprised you did not meet each other on the way.” She hesitated for a moment. “But perhaps it’s for the best.”

Arafinwë nodded, unable to answer. He half longed to see Eärwen, but barely knew what he would say when he did; he wondered if he’d even be able to meet her eyes.  _Not yet_ , he thought, hating his own cowardice.  _In time._   _Give her time_. 

He looked at his mother and his sister. “Lalwendë and Ñolofinwë send their love” he said. 

For now, at least, that was all he had to say.


End file.
